Arms of an Angel
by Magic Crafter
Summary: The night after Anne's death, her little daughter Elizabeth wanders out of bed... Oneshot, possibly angsty.


**A/N: **I love this story, up until the ending, which I think is a little weak…I may edit that at some point and re-post the story. Suggestions would be great! Annnddd **I'm looking for a BETA!** If any of you would be interested, please PM me. Also, _please, please_ vote in my new poll; you can find it on my profile. I want to know what my Tudors readers think! Also, for those of you who read "In Dreams", don't panic…it's still in my computer. But it's going to undergo some heavy editing and revision before it reappears! Sorry if there was some confusion there. Again, if you're interested in being a beta for me, please let me know. Thanks. 3

**Disclaimer: **The show "The Tudors" and its characters belong to Showtime, not to me…though I'd be happy to take JRM or Henry Cavill off their hands! =]

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_Castles they might crumble,  
Dreams may not come true;  
But you are never all alone,  
'Cause I will always, always love you…_

_Clouds will rage,  
Storms will race in;__  
But you will be safe in my arms._

_Rains will pour down,  
Waves will crash around__  
But you will be safe –  
In my arms…_

– _In My Arms,_ Plumb

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**19 May, 1536  
Whitehall Palace, London**

An uneasy stillness had hung over the secluded chambers of Princess Elizabeth all day. No. All the ladies had to remind themselves, for the hundredth time, that their little charge was now formally the _Lady_ Elizabeth. Relieved that the horrible day was over, they tucked her in and prayed she might sleep soundly, thinking surely her dreams must be pleasanter than the very grim reality she now faced.

Everyone in the household was anxious to get away from court as quickly as possible. In fact, the king had made himself perfectly clear: he wanted no more to do with their small charge. She was going much the same way as the Lady Mary…only at a far earlier age. Poor little Elizabeth, the beautiful and now bastardized second daughter of the king, was to be packed off to Hatfield House in the country and thoroughly forgotten by her father and stepmother. After all, everyone knew the Seymours were sympathetic to the Lady Mary's cause and wished to see her reunited with King Henry. Why would the soon-to-be Queen Jane Seymour say anything which might favor the child of her executed rival?

Her ladies, however, most notably Lady Margaret Bryan had a soft spot for her in her heart for the girl, who was entirely too spoiled. Who would think of truly disciplining the king's child…and his daughter, at that? So Princess Elizabeth's household had allowed the child to indulge in her every whim, which her mother Queen Anne had been all too happy to permit. Now, however, though she remained a part of the royal family, Elizabeth was not to be treated like a princess. Of course, Elizabeth knew nothing of this; she knew only that she was now a lady where once she had been a princess, but she could not comprehend how her life would change because of it.

Elizabeth was also as prone to bouts of temper as Henry and Anne both, and these past weeks had shown it.

Her protests began as simple things shortly after her mother was arrested. She'd tug on Lady Bryan's skirts, looking up at her hopefully, saying, "I want my mother," in a soft, almost pleading voice. But as her wait increased and no one would bring Anne to her, or take her to Anne, Elizabeth began to _demand_ her mother's presence. "Muggie, I want my mama!" at the top of her two-and-a-half year old voice. After her parents' marriage had been officially annulled, however, Lady Bryan had told Elizabeth to hold her tongue and behave in a civilized manner. She was, after all, the daughter of the king, even if her mother was a whore and a traitor. Lady Bryan's job was to train her to act like it.

Finally, over the course of the past few days, Elizabeth had simply begged, tears always seeming just below the surface. Only once did she ask _why_ her mama would not come to her, and why she wasn't allowed to go to her mama, either. She wanted to know if it had anything to do with "Papa being nasty" the last time she'd seen him.

Lady Bryan's eyes had widened in fear. She sharply reminded her charge that Henry was not only her father but also her king, and therefore was beyond reproach, from her and all other mortals. He would, she insisted, do what was in Elizabeth's best interest, and the little girl had no right to question him. Elizabeth was in a precarious place already. What Elizabeth's governess did not tell her was that in his rage, the king had suggested she was not truly his daughter, but that of one of the men accused of having "carnal knowledge" of the late Queen. How scandalous and unfair to Elizabeth! Yet she needed to learn from her mother's mistakes and not repeat them; she needed to remain, as much as possible, in her father's good graces.

As of yet, no one had the heart to tell the child of what had taken place only a few miles down the Thames; no one could say that, despite how she wailed for her mother, Queen Anne had died that very morning. No more could Elizabeth's dark eyes shine with delight upon seeing her mother. No more would she wrap her chubby little arms around the queen's slender neck, that neck which had now been severed at the king's command. None of her ladies desired the unenviable task of breaking the news to her. They would have to however, and soon, for Elizabeth's astuteness demanded it. She knew something had changed, and she knew there was a reason they had stopped addressing her as "Your Highness" and "my Lady Princess".

Now, however, she slept, unconcerned with the waking world for a few blessed hours. Her ladies settled down for the evening on their pallets, and all was quiet in Elizabeth's chambers; only the moonlight which streamed in through the windows disturbed the still darkness for what could have been hours or mere moments.

"_Elizabeth…"_

The golden-haired child slowly opened her eyes. She could see no one, and yawned, pulling the coverlet closer to her. Her nightdress was almost too short, and she was cold in the big, drafty rooms of Whitehall, a palace practically falling apart at the seams.

"_Elizabeth…Elizabeth, wake up."_

This time when she looked, Elizabeth caught a glimmer of something – or someone – in the darkness just beyond the doorway. Who had left her door open? She thought she heard a woman's soft laughter, and the gentle whisper of silk on linen petticoats. One of her mother's ladies was teasing her, she thought, and trying to get her into trouble. But something about this vision and this voice drew her out of bed. She tiptoed – albeit nervously – through her sleeping servants and out the door, following the laughter and the brief flash of fabric.

Before Elizabeth knew what she was doing, she found herself in the pretty courtyard gardens where she and Mama had spent so much of their time at court together. It was far different at night, silent and almost eerie…and cold. Why was it still so chilly, and in May? She hugged herself and looked around for the lady who had called her name. Perhaps she had dreamed this all up…she should go back to bed before Lady Bryan discovered her – or before someone else did. Elizabeth briefly shut her eyes and remembered how Papa had yelled at Mama; he had been so angry, and she had been so sad. What if he found out about this? Would he yell at her, too?

"_Elizabeth…"_

Her eyes snapped open again, and suddenly there was a lady sitting there by the side of the fountain. She had her back turned, but Elizabeth knew who she was – the stylish silk gown, the intricately done black hair… Finally! The little girl grinned and hoisted up the skirt of her nightgown, running to her. Was this a surprise from Lady Bryan? "Mama! Mama!" she cried happily, giggling as the lady turned towards her.

Her mother opened her arms wide and caught Elizabeth, pulling her into a tight embrace. She kissed the top of the Elizabeth's head, her cheeks, her nose, and her forehead, until the little girl wriggled to be released from the barrage of affection. Elizabeth settled into her mother's arms, laying her head against her shoulder and looking up at her. "Mama, they haven't let me see you. They haven't even let me see Papa, Mama. Where did you go?" She couldn't help the tears which welled up in her eyes, tears which Anne tenderly reached to wipe away.

With that same hand, she stroked her daughter's short blonde hair, staring into the still-lighted windows of Whitehall. She sighed. "Oh, sweetheart…they were right not to let you see me. I was somewhere I hope you never, ever have to go."

Elizabeth's expression brightened and she looked up at Anne again. "But you're back now, Mama."

Anne did not smile down at her. She grew very quiet. "No, my darling. I have come to tell you something…to tell you good-bye." Her voice, thick with tears, broke, and she swallowed hard, trying not to lose her composure completely, for Elizabeth's sake. The child furrowed her brow, not understanding what her mama was telling her. Good-bye? Was it because Papa planned to send her back to Hatfield?

"But Mama –"

Anne pressed a finger tenderly against her daughter's lips. "Elizabeth, listen to me. I cannot stay for very long. I came to say good-bye to you…you and I will not meet again for a long time, sweetheart. Do you understand? People…people told wicked lies to Papa. And he believed them. So I cannot come back, ever again. But I pray that we will meet in a better place than this, my darling, someday. I will miss you terribly, but I will always be with you. I will watch over you, Elizabeth, even after you are all grown up." She did not pause to let Elizabeth interrupt her even once; she could not say such things to her sweet, innocent baby girl unless she said them all at once.

It nearly killed her to see the pain and confusion and fear in Elizabeth's eyes. She clung harder to her mother, unable to comprehend what she was saying. "I…I promise. But Mama, you're here now. Why can't you stay? What did they tell Papa? Where are you going to go?"

She began to cry, burying her face in her mother's warm embrace. Anne held her tightly, wishing she did not have to ever let go. "Some people think I should never have been queen, Elizabeth, and so they told terrible stories about me. I was sent away, away to prison…Elizabeth –," Anne paused, taking a deep breath and tilting Elizabeth's chin up so she could look at her properly. "Elizabeth, I was executed. Can you…understand that, darling? But I have stayed to say good-bye to you properly."

"But why can I see you…if you were…" Was her mama lying to her? She knew what "executed" meant; how could it have happened to her mama, who was sitting right there, holding her? Elizabeth fell silent, mystified.

"Please do not blame Papa for this, Elizabeth. You must never say bad things about your father, no matter what he might do. You must always treat him as though he is the best person you have ever met. And you must respect your new stepmother, when Papa marries her." She smoothed out Elizabeth's hair and stood up, lifting the toddler into her arms. "Can you promise me that you will never say anything nasty about Papa? I know he was angry the last time you saw him, but you must be the sweetest, kindest daughter you can possibly be for him. Papa loves you, Elizabeth."

Meekly, Elizabeth nodded. She felt sleepy, and she was still confused, but she didn't want to fall asleep and wake up and have Mama not be there. "Mama, are you an angel?" she whispered; Anne had begun to walk. She circled the fountain – _their_ fountain, Elizabeth thought.

Now Anne's eyes were moist. The carried her little girl noiselessly back into the palace, still cradling her close. "You can think of me as an angel, darling." She began to hum a little ditty, softly, but said nothing. It was obvious, both to herself and to Elizabeth, that she was making a valiant effort not to break down into tears. Finally, they reached Elizabeth's chambers. Anne pushed open the door to her bedchamber; it seemed she floated over, or through, the ladies sleeping on the floor, and she set Elizabeth down on the bed, kneeling in front of her.

"Darling, I know you will be a beautiful woman someday, and I hate that I cannot see that day. But I will always be with you in your heart…and I will be watching over you, just like I said. And I believe you will be a wonderful Queen, if…" Anne shook her head and smiled tearfully. "Whatever life brings you, you will make me proud, sweetheart. I'm sorry that I cannot stay…oh, my darling, please don't cry."

She attempted to wipe away Elizabeth's tears again, though she was close to tears herself. "Mama," Elizabeth whimpered, wrapping her small hand around her mother's palm. "Mama, please don't go. I want you to stay, Mama. Or take me with you. And we can both be angels," she suggested hopefully.

Anne laughed weakly. She got to her feet and laid Elizabeth down. "Sweetheart, you are already my angel." For a moment, she sat down on the edge of the mattress, staring silently at that precious, tear-stained face; Elizabeth stared back, memorizing her, locking her mother away in her secret memories. Anne bent over her and kissed her forehead, choking back more tears. "I'll always love you, my darling. Never forget that." She backed away, never tearing her eyes away from Elizabeth's blurred image.

Elizabeth kept her gaze fixed on her mother as well, hoping that this was all just a dream. Tomorrow, she'd wake up, and Mama would be alive and well. Mama wasn't an angel. Mama was a very real, earthly, beautiful queen. The toddler yawned, smiling a little. Yes, tomorrow was going to be a wonderful day. Tomorrow… But just in case, Elizabeth glanced back towards the doorway. No one was there. Elizabeth felt a knot twist in her stomach. What if it was real? What if her mama was gone, and gone forever, like she'd said? "I love you, too, Mama," she whispered into the darkness, and turned over in the darkness, falling quickly and easily into a very dreamless sleep, the sound of sweet laughter echoing in her ears.

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**A/N: **Please R&R!


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